


wanderlust

by orphan_account



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, but it won't be described, just mentioned, no major characters die for once, so it technically has rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 09:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4558896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke Hemmings doesn't like staying still</p>
            </blockquote>





	wanderlust

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally posted on my wattpad account (dan_is_the_night_)

It was two weeks before his seventeenth birthday the first time he ran away. But it wasn't running away, he wasn't a run away, not really. That's pointless, that's escaping the world, your problems. Luke wasn't scared and he wasn't running, he was driving a beat up Toyota Camry and listening to shit music on the radio.

He wasn't running, that's what he told the waitress in a dinner east of nowhere. He was... finding himself. That's completely different according to Luke Hemmings. But if you ask anyone else, it's one and the same.

~ | ~

The second time he ran away was exactly a month later. He was barely seventeen and thought nothing could hurt him. But he wasn't seventeen and invincible, he was seventeen and running from the world. He was doing the very thing he promised himself he would never do; run away from his problems.

But his family was suppose to still be together and happy, unbroken just like his promise. But, like his promise, his family was broken. Dead. Car crash in the interstate, with him alone and unaware.

He was barely seventeen and hell bent on not being in the system. He'd rather lose everything then be a name in a computer, another mouth to feed in a orphanage.

~ | ~

The third time was five weeks into his stay at his second foster home. You could argue that "finding yourself" at seventeen and five months wasn't the smartest idea when you didn't have any money. But Luke Hemmings could argue right back that being homeless and broke was significantly better than foster family #2.

~ | ~

The forth and fifth times past in a blur, only a week each before he was thrown back into the system with a slap on the wrist.

The homes after that moved from bad to worse with child services depositing him on the first door step the could find. The old and closer to eighteen he got, the faster the homes went.

No one wanted a seventeen year old boy, but everyone wanted a baby.

~ | ~

The last time he ran away from a foster home was on July 15, old enough for no one to come looking. He was bruised but smiling at midnight, finally eighteen and out of the system.

Sure, he only had fifty dollars to his name and the clothes on his back, but it didn't matter.

~ | ~

The seventh time he tried to "fine himself" he was nineteen and recently unemployed, and it was getting a little old.

~ | ~

The eighth and ninth times, there wasn't even a point. It was reckless and insane, but so was everything in his life. He was twenty now for fuck's; he wasn't seventeen anymore.

When he came back a few days later, his roommate rolled his eyes and handed him a stack of envelopes. Michael didn't care where he was if it meant he and his boyfriend Ashton had the apartment to themselves for a week.

~ | ~

He was twenty one and lost, both in a map and in his mind. He was on an empty highway full of potholes, blasting Nirvana from his car speakers. He sang off key as Heart Shaped Box played, not caring that he was going at least fifty miles above the speed limit.

He had been gone for three months, sick of the familiar city and faces. He kept driving, barely stopping for food and gas.

The music stopped as his phone began to ring, a picture of his roommate flashing on the screen in time to Paramore's Day Dreaming.

Luke sighed before slowing down slightly and answering the call.

"What do you need, Michael?"

"This is Ashton."

"Ok, what do you need?" Luke rolled his eyes, not interested in whatever shit storm was going on back home between his roommate and roommate's boyfriend.

"Michael is freaking out, apparently you're never gone this long." Ashton explained. "He would have called you himself, but he's been sick all week."

"I'll be back soon."

"Ok," Ashton sighed.

Luke was about to hang up when he heard a muffled shout from the background of Ashton's side.

"Oh, thanks Michael! Luke, I completely forgot. You got a letter from a Carl Britton."

Luke slammed in the breaks, causing him to drop his phone as the car came to a sudden halt. The rapid deceleration from 80 to 0 gave him slammed him back in his seat and most likely destroyed his break pads.

"Luke? Are you ok?" Ashton sounded panicked, clearly not expected that reaction.

Luke kicked the driver's side door open and stumbled out of the car. He grabbed his phone from under the front seat.

"What the hell does she want?" He asked shakily, leading against the trunk.

"I don't know. We didn't open it." He paused. "I can now, if you want me to."

Luke took a deep breath. "Do it."

There was a rustle of paper tearing before Ashton cleared his throat and began to read.

"Dear Luke Hemmings," he stopped to laugh. "Wow, Luke. They managed to make you sound official."

"Stop it and read the damn paper, Irwin."

"Fine, fine. 'Dear Luke Hemmings, I regret to inform you that my daughter, Cecilia, has past. As you were close to her and still considered part of the family even after your unorthodox departure, I invite you to the funeral.'"

Luke felt as if the wind had been knocked from his lungs yet again. Cecilia couldn't be dead. No, she was still five and carefree, playing with her dolls and legos and princess dresses in the Britton's back yard. She was the only good thing about foster home #5. He could ignore the late night visits and questionable bruises if it meant the little girl was still happy and innocent. She couldn't be dead, she had to be fine.

"Luke?" Ashton's voice was soft, lightly prodding. "Who was Cecilia?"

"Does it say how?" God, Cecilia. She was so young, far too young to be alone in that house with her father.

Ashton was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, "Organ rupture and internal bleeding. They don't know what happened though."

Luke dropped his phone for the second time in five minutes. He kicked a tire has hard as he could, held the tears back, screamed and shouted. Finally, he stopped. Everything stopped.

He knelt down and picked up the cellphone.

"Ashton?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell Mikey that Cecilia was in #5. He'll understand." Luke's voice was calm, void of emotion.

"Wait, what? What's number five-"

Luke hung up, climbed back in the car and kept driving.

~ | ~

It was a good four hours before he left nowhere. There was a small dinner, more of a shack then anything else. But the parking lot was near full and the neon sign didn't have any obvious flickering, which Luke took as a good sign. He parked near the edge of the lot, slamming his door shut with his foot before heading inside.

He was lead to the bar by the brunette hostess and handed a menu, but he probably wouldn't get anything other than coffee.

A few minutes later, a waiter came up to take his order. He was cute, if Luke were to be honest. But of course, Luke had to look like shit from driving, crying, and lack of sleep.

The waiter, however, totally rocked the mandatory dinner shirt and black skin tight jeans, black hair pulled in a slight quiff with blonde streaks.

Luke opened his mouth to order, but the waiter beat him to it.

"I can't tell if you're high or crying, but we have a strict no drugs policy after the time that Alex and Jack came in completely stoned." He rattled off as if it was a common thing to say, like 'hi' or 'hey'.

"Oh, no. I'm not high." Luke blushed, glaring down at the table while furiously wiping at his eyes. "I've never done drugs, actually."

"Oh," it was the waiter's turn to blush. "Well, my shift is done as soon as you are, so if you want to talk about whatever..."

"Sure,"

"Well," he smiled. "I'm Calum, welcome to Emma's. What would you like today?"

"Just some coffee, thanks."

A few minutes later, Luke had a steaming hot mug of coffee in front of him. Calum was clocked out and sitting next to him, sipping his own cup of coffee.

"So..."

"Luke."

"So, Luke." Calum laughed awkwardly. "What brings you to this fine establishment today?"

"I'm just avoiding responsibility." He paused. "And I left my apartment so my roommate can fuck his boyfriend on every available surface."

"Are they loud?"

"Extremely. But that doesn't have to do with what you want to know."

"Maybe." Luke stared at him until he cracked. "Ok. It doesn't."

Luke took a sip, nearly burning his tongue.

"Why were you crying?"

"I was in foster care for a year," Luke began. "I was in a bunch of different homes. In the last one, they had a little girl. Cecilia."

Calum patiently waited as Luke took another sip, more cautious this time.

"She was five. I basically raised her for three months until I turned eighteen. I won't go into the details, but a lot of fucked up stuff happened in that house. I took the brunt of it."

"She died, organ rupture and internal bleeding. The autopsy apparently didn't show a cause." Luke laughed bitterly. "But what police medical examiner is going to tell the chief that his eight year old daughter died when he raped her?"

~ | ~

Calum had almost a month of vacation days left in the quarter and nothing to do with it, so he agreed to attend the funeral with Luke. Frankly, his burning hated for a certain Carl Britton did help make his decision easier.

He sat in the shotgun seat of Luke's car, singing along to the radio. The most direct route would take at least two days of constant driving. However, the funeral service wasn't for a couple of days.

After nearly three days of driving and eating shitty fast food, they arrived in Perth. They had a day to just relax before the funeral, in which time Michael and Ashton would be arriving.

~ | ~

"You lived here?" Michael let out a low whistle. "Damn, Luke."

"It's not as nice as it seems."

They sat in Ashton's car, as Luke's couldn't hold all of them. In front of them was foster home #5. People were bustling in and out the large oak front door.

"I can imagine," Calum whispered.

~ | ~

The service was nice and expensive, as was expected from the popular and beloved police chief. All of the officers attended, providing both well wishes for the family and security.

Luke gripped the edge of his plastic chair as a minister rattled on and on about how God was getting a new little angel.

Michael fell asleep half way through and had to be kicked ever so often by his boyfriend.

After the Cecilia's glossy silver casket was placed in the hearse, Carl Britton made rounds through the throng of guest. By the time he made it to Luke and his friends, they were a little more than pissed.

"Ah, Luke," the police chief smiled, but it was cold, calculating.

"Hello, Carl."

"We've heard so much about you." Calum smirked, looking forward to what was to come.

"Oh, really? All good things, I'm sure." Carl's forced smile shrunk.

"Good and bad are a matter of perspective and opinion. I'm sure you believe that what you did was right, just as Luke is sure what you did was wrong." Ashton nodded, agreeing with what Michael said.

As the seconds past, Carl Britton grew more and more angry, complexion growing red with every beat of his heart.

"You come into my house," he angrily whispered, saliva flying. "My daughter just died-"

"She didn't die. I saw the report. Ruptured organs? Internal bleeding? We both know, as soon as I left you focused all of it on her." Luke all but shouted. "You beat her, you raped her, just like you did me! She was eight years old. Cecilia was so perfect, so innocent. But you couldn't have that, could you? How many of your officers have done the exact same thing?"

"Shut up! Shut up! You don't know anything!" Carl slammed into Luke, swiftly bringing him to the ground. Luke could faintly hear a woman scream, but all of his attention was focused on the man on top of him.

"What don't I know? You fucking raped me! You locked me in the basement for days!" Luke shouted. Everyone still present gathered around, trying to see what was happening.

"You deserved it! If you hasn't left, she would still be here!" Carl raised his fist, before slamming it down on Luke's face. Bone snapped loudly as a collective gasp rang through the room, blood trickling out of Luke's broken nose.

Suddenly, the room snapped into action. No longer were the people frozen in space, unsure of how to react. Calum burst forward and pulled Carl off of Luke. Calum then kicked the police chief in the stomach a few times for good measure.

"I don't think anyone deserves what you did to Luke and Cecilia." Calum shook his head, disgusted. He turned to Luke, frowning at the blood.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Luke tried to smile, but it caused him to wince.

"Bullshit." Ashton grabbed Luke's hand and dragged him to the car. There, he shoved several napkins in Luke's hands. "Stop the bleeding then you can get in the car."

~ | ~

A few months later, Luke was sitting in Emma's. But this time, he wasn't running, wasn't "finding himself".

He was there to see his boyfriend.

Luke and Calum went on their first official date a few days after the funeral. They saw a movie, and even though neither of the young adults enjoyed the movie, they went on many more dates.

Carl Britton was arrested for the rape and abuse of Cecilia, and the majority of his department was charged with obstruction of justice. Luke got of scotch free, claiming was all self-defense. The trial was set for a few months.

~| ~

Luke was in Emma's again, like he was every few weeks. He was officially moved out of the apartment and Ashton was moved in.

But, Luke was done with the mindless running. He had found himself. He knew where his home was now.

With Calum, the new manager of Emma's dinner, and his fiance.


End file.
